


Deal or No Deal

by darkrose



Series: Art of the Deal [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Breathplay, M/M, Mirror Universe, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk never wanted anything to do with the Imperial Starfleet, but he knows a good deal when he hears one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal or No Deal

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** This fic is set in the Star Trek Mirror Universe, which is a dystopic version of the Prime Star Trek universe that includes sexual violence and consent issues. This particular fic includes prostitution, implied rape, rough sex, verbal humiliation, and breathplay.
> 
> **Notes:** For this version of the Mirrorverse, I'm sticking with canon as presented in Enterprise and TOS. Instead of following the DS9 version, however, I'm branching off after the TOS episode "Mirror, Mirror" and mostly going with the Mirrorverse history from Diane Duane's _Dark Mirror_.

It just isn't Jim's night. The chick with the amazing legs had blown him off--although given the way she'd taken him down and put her foot on his neck, he'd have almost been willing to let her do him for free. A couple of the other Starfleet cadets in the bar expressed interest a bit later, but once they get out to the alley behind the bar and he askes for the credits up front, they decide to just take what they want.

He's been raped before--it's an occupational hazard--but what really bugs him is that these clowns just aren't any _good_ at it. He's unable to resist the urge to tell them as much, which prompts them to try to beat the crap out of him after they fuck him. That might be a problem, especially if they keep hitting him in the face. Reconstructive surgery is expensive.

Jim turns his head and closes his eyes, bracing for another punch that never lands. Instead of the impact of a fist, he hears a loud, sharp whistle.

"I'm sure you...gentlemen have somewhere else to be." Jim opens one eye. They've been joined in the alley by a tall guy with graying hair in what Jim immediately recognizes as a Starfleet Academy instructor's uniform.

The cadets don't move. The instructor gives them a second or two before he steps in close to the tallest one and sucker-punches him in the gut.

"Here's your first lesson, _Recruit_," he says in a conversational tone. "If you want to survive in Starfleet, when someone wearing this uniform tells you to do something, you do it. No questions; no hesitations--unless you're a masochist, and even then I promise that when the Discipline Squad gets through, you won't like pain so much anymore. Now _get_."

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" all three say in unison, tripping over themselves in their haste to get away.

"Fucking morons," the guy growls turning to look at Jim, "and that goes for you too, if you don't know better than to try to get cadets to actually pay you."

Jim gets to his feet, fastening his jeans checking with his tongue for any missing teeth. "Some of my best customers are Starfleet," he tells the guy, giving him his best "aw-shucks-I'm-just-a-cute-country-boy" look.

"You going to charge me?" He sounds amused, which is always a good sign. Jim sidles up to him, close enough to feel his body heat.

"Nah...consider it a thank you for getting those assholes off me," he says, letting his voice go husky. The guy takes the cue, grabbing the back of Jim's head to hold him still while he kisses him. He tastes like scotch, smells like soap and aftershave and is a really good kisser.

As abruptly as he'd grabbed him, the instructor shoves him away. Jim reaches for his belt, but the guy shakes his head.

"Hold on, kid--I've got some questions for you. Let's start with you telling me your name."

Jim raises an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

"Call me old-fashioned."

"Jim." He's clearly expecting more, so Jim quickly adds, "Kirk."

"Ah." The guy smiles. "George and Winona Kirk's son, I presume?" At Jim's surprised look, he explains, "I did my dissertation on the I.S.S. _Kelvin_\--and I'm a friend of your mother's."

"My mother has a lot of...friends," Jim says drily. "Am I supposed to know you?"

"No, and it's Captain Christopher Pike. So why aren't you in Starfleet?"

Jim shrugs. "Maybe I don't like flying. Or maybe I make better money hooking. Or maybe I don't want to end up like my dad."

"Your dad was a hero who sacrificed himself for the Empire," Pike tells him sardonically.

"Yeah, and he's also dead."

Pike's smile is unpleasant. "There is that. But seriously, kid--if you're going to whore yourself out, you might as well get compensated appropriately." He steps forward into Jim's space. "And I'm not talking about money, although that can be good too, if you know how to 'supplement'. The real prize, though, is power. A captain is God on his ship." Pike reaches out and strokes the side of Jim's face in an oddly intimate gesture.

It's intriguing, but Pike doesn't need to know that. "No offense, Sir, but...are you actually going to fuck me? Because if not, there's still a few hours tonight for me to make some money, and my rent is due soon."

"You really are an impatient little slut, aren't you?" Pike laughs. "I think I kind of like you." He studies Jim for a moment; then moving faster than Jim would have guessed a guy his age could, he shoves Jim against the brick wall, face-first.

Pike unfastens Jim's jeans and shoves them down just far enough so he can get at Jim's ass; he chuckles when his hand brushes against Jim's dick.

"Yeah, I definitely like you," he growls, right in Jim's ear. "And trust me--it you get off on being smacked around like this all the time, you'll do just fine in Starfleet." He runs his thumb over Jim's bottom lip. "I'll want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours next time; for now, if you want lube, get these nice and wet."

Jim obediently opens his mouth and sucks down two of Pike's long fingers, licking along them just like he'd do if it were the his cock. Pike's not gentle as he pushes his fingers into Jim's ass, still wet from being fucked earlier; from the way Pike groans, he's pretty turned on by that. Jim files that away for future reference, because he suspects there is going to be a next time.

For all that Pike called Jim impatient, he's clearly not interested in taking his time when he finally shoves his cock into Jim. He fucks him hard and fast, slamming Jim against the wall with each brutal thrust. Pike's got him pinned, Jim's own cock trapped against the rough brick of the wall. Pike bites down hard on the back of his neck, and Jim moans and squrims under Pike. It's not an act, and it's why Jim's one of the more successful whores around the Riverside shipyards--he rarely has to fake it.

Pike slides a hand under Jim's shirt and pinches Jim's nipples, then reaches down and runs a finger along Jim's erection, his touch feather-light and utterly maddening. Jim wants to scream, but there's no way he's giving Pike that satisfaction.

"Here's how it's going to be, boy," Pike says. "I'm going to keep fucking you, and touching you like this while you hump the wall, until you come with my dick in your ass. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir!" The "sir" just kind of slips out, but Jim doesn't give a shit because the only thing he cares about right now is the way Pike won't stop barely touching him, and how it's driving him crazy, and how he almost doesn't want to come because then it means this will be over and he'll have to go back, alone, to his crappy apartment.

"Hmm..." Pike bites his ear. "Maybe just a little more...." He rests one hand on Jim's throat and slowly squeezes. Jim comes so hard he doesn't even hear Pike groan when he shoves balls-deep into Jim's ass one last time before he's coming too.

Jim's legs don't seem to want to work, and he almost falls over when Pike releases him. He can't look at him as he does his jeans up again, but he can feel Pike watching him. Finally he turns around, runs a hand through his hair, and gives Pike a wide, bright smile.

"So yeah--thanks," he says. Pike--who looks way too cool and relaxed given what just happened--just nods once, as if Jim's passed some sort of test.

"Shuttle leaves at eight hundred hours tomorrow," he tells Jim. "If you want to spend the rest of your life selling your ass to dockworkers, fine. If you think you deserve better, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Jim's still not entirely sold on the Starfleet thing. He does know that he's more than ready to get the hell out of Iowa, and if that means being the captain's whore, well...it seems like a good deal.


End file.
